Leverrier Must Die
by volibear
Summary: Exactly as the title suggests. Chaos and immaturity inside. Spoilers for ch. 168 *DISCONTINUED*
1. How about a shave?

**LEVERRIER MUST DIE.**

**We all hate the bastard to hell.**

**I think it's just plain obvious what must be done.**

**We must kill Leverrier.**

**And not just once, oh no.**

**He must die as many violent, painful deaths as possible.**

**So here's the deal, my fellow Leverrier Haters!**

**As of chapter 168, I now hate Leverrier on a VERY personal affront, as he is to blame for the death of my very favorite DGM cast member. Cross shall be avenged!! **

**(And I don't care if it was who I really do suspect – Bookman, for some reason or another – I blame Leverrier anyway!!)**

**(That or it could have even been suicide. Either way, it's HIS fault!!)**

**I will now proceed to kill Leverrier in any way I can think of. **

**If you have a cause of death that you want to see, leave me a review and I'll try and write it.**

**Just make sure it's very painful.**

**It can be anything – AU, crossover, or just plain having your favorite DGM character beat the living shit out of him. I'm open to suggestion. I think we all need this... **

**His first death shall be the one I've been longing for a while now.**

**(Obviously.)**

**Enjoy. This will be the beginning of many a torture.**

**The 1st Night in Hell**

Mr. Todd, glaring into his all but unscathed mirror, clutched his trusty razor as the bell above the door chimed. He didn't have to turn to see the abomination that had entered. Why, Todd was starting to believe that this man had once looked into this mirror, and that the cause of it shattering like it did was not, in fact, a kettle crashing into it. Of course, Todd shot this idea down, deciding that if the man had seen himself in the mirror, it probably would have shuddered, shattered into thousands of tiny bits, and then melted into the floor. Frowning, he draped a dark cloth over it to prevent this from happening. But now he had to look at the _thing_ that entered.

The new occupant of the room was a tall and shrewd-looking business man. Of course, his guess might have been wrong. He seemed a very stern sort, the way his gray hair receded into his head unevenly, the terrible mustache that loitered just above his lip and looked mysteriously like -

"Come for a shave, my good sir?" Mr. Todd asked, guiding him to his rigged chair. The unsuspecting man obliged, lounging himself into the almost plush seat as Todd draped the silky white cloth over his shoulders and tied it around the man's thick neck.

"Very well, sir. Tell me, what do they call you?"

"Leverrier," was his short, nasal answer. Mr. Todd wrinkled his nose behind his back as he sharpened his razor.

"I've heard of you before. You couldn't be important, could you?" Todd further mused as he bide his time with the sharp object. The man smirked, his pampered brows furrowing slightly in a most sinister way.

"My business is none of yours," he sneered as Todd began to brush the shaving cream around his stubble, "So why don't we get this over with, I've a very important meeting with- ah, no, no, leave the mustache." Leverrier raised his hand to shoo away Todd's brush as it so eagerly flew toward the abomination. Todd rolled his eyes, mocking the man with his hands as he again had his back turned to him.

Leverrier, expecting a smooth, suave shave, closed his eyes to relax, leaning his head back to expose his neck as he would at any other barber. But imagine his surprise when he found that it wasn't such a good idea to visit this particular barber; his eyes shot open as Sweeney's razor made to glide smoothly up his chin, but instead took a sharp turn and cut into his jugular. His vision began to blur as, with heart-stopping horror, he felt blood spurting out of his neck like a broken fountain. For good measure, Sweeney Todd took a final swipe at his neck. Leverrier was choking, wanting to scream, to yell, for somebody to hear him and come to his rescue (little did he know that, even if he was heard, it was likely nobody would come anyway). But all he could get out was a inaudible gurgle in his bleeding throat. His world was turned upside down as gravity began to pull him downward, through the trap door in the floor behind the barber's chair. Leverrier, his eyes swimming and dizzy, tilted his head back only slightly, only to see the stone floor of a cellar rushing at him. A sickening crack. Darkness.

_The next day_

The door to the cellar opened, and Mrs. Lovett came hustling through, very busy today indeed. She seemed to have more customers than usual! Her meat pies were very, very popular nowadays. Oh, woe to anybody who discovered her secret ingredient!

In any case, Mrs. Lovett was in need of more pies. She had left some to bake down in the cellar, which she was grateful for, as she had just received a large party demanding more of her delicious, mouth-watering, _to die for_ meat pies. Mr. Todd had just added another tasty victim to the meat grinder, and at the moment, was about to make a happy family even happier.

Mrs. Lovett pulled the meat pies from the furnace, setting them aside on a grate to cool. As she began to prepare more to bake, something strange hit her.

"What's that peculiar smell?"

She raised her head, with big, curious eyes. Her pale hands, which had easily let go of the meat grinder, raised up to pinch her nose.

"It can't be the meat pies!" she declared, but sauntered over to inspect them anyway. Briefly, she removed her hand to observe them better.

"Oh yes, definitely the pies..." she admitted grimly, wrinkling her nose. Picking one up, she eyed it warily before taking a small bite out of it – which she quickly spat out again.

"What is this? It tastes horrible!"

She took the tray of meat pie rejects and carried them over to the drain.

"Oh well, at least they'll make someone happy down there..." The grate of the drain was lifted, and the tray was tipped forward, letting the horrible pies fall into the cobbled side walk of the sewage system under the city.

_Sewers_

It had been an entire hour before one brave rodent decided to confront the strange smelling pies. After much sniffing and prodding, the rat warily opened it's unprepared maw and bit into the meat. Moments later, it began to choke and gag, keeling over. The poor rodent ran off to inform its fellow rats of the danger. The meat pies thus began to rot in the sewer. And what of Leverrier? The fellow was never heard from again, but nobody ever cared to ask of his whereabouts anyway.

**Don't forget your Leverrier voodoo dolls on the way out. :)**


	2. Curiosity

**Short, but so satisfying. :)  
Combination of two suggestions - thanks for the ideas, everyone!  
Enjoy!**

**The 2nd Night in Hell**

"N-no! Stop!"

He struggled and squirmed, trying to get away – but alas, all was in vain, because the buckles bounding him to the table were very strong indeed. Tyki Mikk smiled sinisterly.

"Want to tell me where Allen Walker is, now?" he drawled, running his hand playfully around in Leverrier's insides, grasping at his vital organs. Leverrier, at this point, was feeling very sick.

"Alright! I'll tell you! Just – stop!"

Tyki smirked to his surrender, pulling out his hand and standing over his torture table. He raised a brow. (_"Well?"_) Leverrier reached into his coat pocket with a shaking hand, withdrawing a small piece of parchment; the location of the headquarters. Tyki tore it away from his grasp, his smile growing ever more sinister as he read it over. Leverrier watched him with a small, beady eye.

"Release me at once!" he demanded, kicking his legs as if to further relay his orders. Tyki pocketed the paper and gave him a skeptical look as if to foreshadow the fact that he wasn't going to follow through with it. And as any spectator might have guessed at this point, Tyki really wasn't.

"Release you?" he asked, his tone casual, as if what Leverrier had just demanded were the most ridiculous thing in the world. The older man grew positively red with anger.

"Now!!" he bellowed, with such force that spit came flying out of his mouth. Tyki wrinkled his nose.

"Why would I do that?"

Leverrier screwed up his face, a mixed expression of fury, anxiety, and fear. It then changed into shock as Tyki left the table for a moment to search around in a nearby drawer. His heard raced, hearing the contents of the drawer clink about like metal.

"You see, I'm not sure what it is, but my curiosity is wanting to know what it is that makes you _tick_."

Leverrier remained silent as Tyki withdrew from the drawer something shiny and sharp...

"I think it would be more fun to actually _see_ what I'm dealing with here."

Tyki turned toward Leverrier once again, this time with an arm-length knife in hand. If Leverrier hadn't known any better, he'd say it was one of those blades butchers use to cut up the... oh, shit. He began to yell and thrash as Tyki approached with the sharp object in hand, smirking all the while.

"_Are you __**mad**__?!_" Leverrier cried as Tyki ripped open his coat. Tyki laughed.

"No, just curious."

And thus his torture commenced. Tyki began by letting the knife glide roughly down his chest and stomach, effectively splitting it open. Leverrier howled in pain as the air entered, chilling his body. Blood began to spill out of the opening as Tyki parted it with his gloved hands and peered inside.

"So this is what evil looks like," he mused, fiddling with all the tubes and veins. Between grunts of pain, Leverrier managed a growl toward Tyki.

"_You're_ the evil one here, Noah."

"Me? Evil? Such cold words. I think that'll cost you... hmm... this thing here." Tyki was no expert on human anatomy. He never went to school, but he knew something was important when he saw it. And that's when Tyki began to slice out one of his kidneys. Tyki held the organ in his hand as Leverrier writhed in pain, blood spurting out. Tyki brought the organ in front of his face.

"Hey, you know what this is?"

Leverrier seemed unable to respond. Tyki shrugged, tossing it carelessly over his shoulder, and plunged his hands back into his bleeding innards, searching for something else.

"You know, usually, when I remove organs from people's bodies, I never had a good chance to see what else was in there. Like this. Hey, what is this, anyway?" Leverrier howled again, clenching his teeth, biting his tongue, as Tyki had torn out a smaller organ with his own hands. His appendix.

"Ah, well," Tyki threw this one to the floor as well, "You're beginning to bore me. Don't worry, though, we'll be done soon enough."

For the next ten minutes or so, Tyki continued to remove things from Leverrier's body, as the man experienced pain like he had never felt before. He remained alive through the entire procedure, as Tyki seemed to know more about the body than he let on. He seemed to know which organs you could live without, and was slowly taking them out one by one. Each time, the room became more and more bloody. Each time, Leverrier was thrust into a whole new round of pain. At this point, he _wanted_ to die. Then, Tyki suddenly stopped.

"Hm. Ready to stop?"

Leverrier wanted to say, "_Just kill me!_" but Tyki must have removed his voice box, and his lips moved soundlessly.

"Yes? Ah, alright. Besides, if I go any further, you might die. I'm going to go take a break, I'll be back in a couple of hours."

With that, Tyki left the room, throwing his gloves away into the rubbish bin on his way out. Leverrier simply lay there, his insides still left wide open, oozing all sorts of liquids - and with horrible, icky pain. Where did he leave that knife? It was sitting on the drawer, out of reach. He just wanted to slice open his throat and be done with it. Damn that Noah! He was still alive! How could he still be alive?!

Two hours later, Tyki returned, stretching his limbs and yawning.

"That was a good nap, really! I hope you got some rest yourself – eh – hey, you still alive?"


	3. Worthy of cake

**Sorry for the wait. Here it is. :)**

**The 3rd Night in Hell**

The creaks and moans of the ship, the swaying and bobbing, did nothing to raise his dismal spirit. The captain - of which to nobody he would admit this truth – was an honest wreck. His crew, even his own quartermaster, Howard Link, was under the impression that this journey was arranged only to reacquire the fortune of which was lost on the last expedition. Though what they believed was the reason, had been, in fact, related to the truth, it was in no way associated with wealth. The captain – a foolish man indeed – made the fatal mistake of bringing aboard his bride. Though many measures were taken to ensure her wellbeing, in the end, no plans were made to handle the incident of a ship wreck. All men aboard managed to survive the disaster; that is to say, the men only.

The captain of this ship, Leverrier, was so devastated by the tragedy that he took an oath never to sail again. However, as the seasons passed, as his health wore thin, his riches deflated as well. At the time, he was settled into the port city of Salerno, Italy, along with the majority of his crew. In the first years of his retirement, many members of his company moved on – to sailing or to begin a family, Levierrier was unsure, because he spent those years, despite his power and wealth, in misery.

By the time his soundness had hit rock bottom, he had become bankrupt, and had no other choice but to return to the sea again. Several men he was able to rehire, while others – some of which were his best hands – were long unheard of. The returning company was given a higher rank than the newcomers, those being Howard Link, Cross Marian, Reever Wenhamm, Winters Socalo, and Bak Chan – his only exception being a man identifying himself as Bookman, whom Leverrier hired as his navigator. The new members were all deckhands, and worked hard to keep the ship sailing. Though now, at this hour in the night, all were sleeping below deck (minus a young man named Lavi, who was manning the wheel, and Winters Socalo, who was on watch).

Brooding in his dark thoughts, those which he hadn't let go of, even after those five years he spent away from the water, he did not hear the brisk rapping on his door. A drink of whiskey cleared his thoughts. The knocking was louder, sounding to Leverrier as if a cannon had just been fired.

"Enter!" he hiccuped, sitting on his desk. The door creaked open, and his vice-captain, Howard Link, entered with a small salute.

"Captain," he greeted, closing the door behind him, "you called?"

"Yes. Have a seat."

The captain pulled out a chair, retreating behind his desk as Link warily obeyed. The latter gave him a skeptical look, as if he suspected Leverrier was about to fire him or choke him with his bare hands. However, when the older man let out a long, drawn out sigh, Link's tensed shoulders drooped into relaxation.

"Sir, if I may?" Link inquired holding up a hand. Leverrier eyed him expectantly. Taking this as permission to continue, Link plowed on.

"This is about your captaincy, isn't it? If you are here to tell me you are stepping down, please - go no further. I must decline."

"Why, pray tell?" Leverrier deadpanned, sipping at his whiskey and appearing to be surprised at Link's ability to read him so well.

"Because, sir, what will you do if you are not leading this assemblage? Besides, it is entirely up to our men to decide who is captain. If you step down, it is not entirely assured that I will take your place."

"By God, Howard, who else could be better suited for the job? Who else would they even elect?" Leverrier said, his voice sour and drunken.

"Well, you, first of all," Link lied, "And then there's Cross Marian."

"Cross!" Leverrier spat, "He has been in charge of discipline since our first voyage! As I must admit he does a damn good job, and looking at it from the perspective of a deckhand – oh! Who would want him in charge of the whole blasted ship?"

Link frowned, defeated by Leverrier's sharp logic.

"Komui Lee, then."

"That lunatic?" Leverrier drawled, as if the idea of the health officer running his ship was simply preposterous, "Do tell, how many men have NOT become a victim of his drill?"

"Sir, honestly," Link sighed, leaning forward in his seat, hands slapped onto the desk in front of the older man, "At least wait until this expedition has run its course before you-"

At that moment, the door was thrown open, and a young man with ruby red hair entered.

"Lavi! How rude of you!" Link cried, standing. Lavi frowned.

"Forgive me, we've got company."

"What?"

The trio ran outside onto the deck. Winters, telescope in hand, approached them, handing the device to the captain.

"Enemy vessel."

Leverrier peered through the scope, immediately recognizing the ship that approached through the fog. The ship, shaped much like an ark, bore four letters along its hull, clearly visible as it was – what he guessed to be – black paint: "NOAH".

The ship, or ark, was the same that had been the cause of their last wreck. True devils in piracy they were – not only hoarding food and weapons, women and booze, but raiding other vessels as well as their crew. And in Leverrier's case - his bride.

"Socalo, alert everyone on board," Leverrier growled through his teeth. The man gave a salute before running below deck.

"Lavi, I want this ship on the move," he bellowed, startling the young man, who gave a salute nonetheless, and clambered up the stairs to once again to guide the ship. Soon, there was much activity on the deck and below. Cannons were being loaded, orders yelled, sails erected, and men scrambling around in nervous anticipation. Leverrier, Link, Socalo, and Bookman soon joined Lavi up top around the wheel. Lavi, who was working exceptionally hard to avoid an encounter with NOAH, was guiding the ship as close to shore as possible while avoiding rocks and reefs from below. Leverrier, tense as he was, could only watch the talented man work his magic at the wheel. Leverrier hoped it wouldn't come to a battle with that particular enemy – they had thwarted him once before, and, likely, could do it again, especially because of his extended absence and rustiness of being a captain.

Fortunately, due to the laziness of his men, Leverrier never had to see his men go to battle with such an enemy. For, when the ship gave a particularly sharp turn, the rudder came loose of its ties and swung across the upper deck. All except the captain were able to dodge this swing. As for Leverrier, the pole hit him square in the face, hooking his neck and flinging him clean off the ship. His subordinates, stunned, watched with bugging eyes as his form soared a good distance before colliding with the rocks jutting out of the shoreline. His figure looked as if it were made of rubber as it stumbled down these rocks, in which the strange display of physics were all a mystery of gravity, and finally ended when a spire made kabob of his limp body. All who witnessed were absolutely dumbfounded by this show, wincing as blood began to sputter from the wound.

For a moment, everything was silent. Then, a voice rose from below deck, and all eyes turned to see a man with dark skin and light rosy hair. Link recognized the man as Jerry, the chef aboard the ship.

"I've baked a lot of cake!" he announced, "Who would like to..." he trailed off, realizing the stupor that everyone seemed to be in. "What's going on?"

Glances were exchanged. Finally, Socalo leaned in and whispered something in Lavi's ear, and the young man nodded, taking hold of the wheel with clammy hands.

"Nothing!" cried Winters, "Nothing at all! Let's eat some cake!"

The ship remained quiet as a cemetery as Lavi steered the ship around the corner as to leave the captain's body behind. Then, everyone cheered in agreement, gathering below deck to dig into a slice of Jerry's freshly baked cake.

Needless to say, the captain got what he wanted, although not quite the way he had anticipated.

**Haha. Quite unexpected, no?**


End file.
